Dark Journey: A Reality Show
by FearlessLeader-Flick
Summary: Criminal Minds is shot as a reality show. This is what happens behind-the-scenes. Don't you just love Reid? rating for language and other possible inappropriate things. no sex scenes or anything, though.
1. An Introduction of Sorts

A/N (12/31/09): I am re-uploading all of the chapters, plus publishing the final chapter, today with all the necessary corrections made. Thanks to all of you for reading!

**A/N:**

This an idea that grew out of a couple of one-shots I did. I decided my new idea was pretty good, and twisted the existing fics a bit to fit them into something bigger than themselves.

The concept is that the Criminal Minds TV show works on the same premise as The Office on NBC. The team is on a reality show about their jobs (titled Dark Journey…for hopefully-obvious reasons) that they know about, and they function as real people instead of TV stars working on script and stuff like that. Hopefully I did it well enough that you'll get the jist of what's going on. I just figured a preemptive explanation was a good idea.

Another thing, this fic mainly concerns Reid, what a twit he is, and how much everyone hates him. I know that he really isn't and that they don't really hate him (as far as being on a TV show goes), and Reid is probably my favorite character. However, I always see great potential for taking what Reid does out of context and stuff like that.

There's a lot of OoC, and this may border, or actually be, a Crack!fic. In fact, any character may take on any number of different fake personalities to suit my needs. That's why I'm not worried about "nailing" any one character's dialogue or getting the facts/details straight about their lives and personalities. It's all for fun, so please don't bother commenting on anything like that. I would appreciate the help in a real fic, but this is not one of those.

There should be some chances to get a prize (probably guessing games where the winner gets to have me use their idea for a chapter or fic or something).

Allow me to take this time to mention that I do not own…anything. Criminal Minds, The Office, and any other trademarked/copyrighted thing used in this fic is the property of its respective owner and I made no profit from their use. I'd be too lazy to actually try doing that. This disclaimer shall apply to all chapters in the fic.

I will also mention that the fics appear in no sensical order. I'm not necessarily posting in the order I write them because some of them are just short little things that I can sprinkle in randomly, but I also have no definitive order of where I'm writing them from. Some will have Gideon, then another Rossi, then Gideon again. Some stories may take place in a way-future from when the actual incidents they refer to happened. Plus, I suppose I should warn you that Elle will not likely appear as a character in any of these; I don't like her. I don't even really like Emily, but she's better than Elle.

Okay, I think I'm done. I'll randomly leave Author's Notes (probably smack in the middle of a fic) if I feel anything else needs explanation or just feel like saying something. Though I've already explained a lot, I'll probably reiterate a lot.

Sorry about the lengthy note.

Now, we can proceed to the real story.

I hope you'll have as much fun with this as I am, and if there's anything you like or hate, let me know so I can work with it!


	2. Reid Really Likes Attention

The team stood around the table, contempt in their eyes. Reid, the lone member sitting, was aware that their contempt was directed at him. He glanced at the cameras trying to sneak around outside and get a shot from behind the blinds, and he considered how happy everyone was that the cameras were being shut out for once. That made him laugh, though, because he'd secretly kept his microphone on so that the audio would be available. He didn't know what they were mad about, but he was sure it was good for ratings and, therefore, good for him.

"This isn't funny, Reid," Gideon admonished. They had all decided a direct approach would be best. Hopefully Gideon, having his creepy Gideon-can-connect-with-Reid thing, would be able to get this under control fast.

"What isn't?" It wasn't acting; Reid was honestly clueless. The smirk wasn't helping, though.

"We know what you're doing, Reid, and we're not happy about it."

"Gideon, I really don't see what point you're trying to get at."

"Kid, I saw what you did when you thought you were alone with Tobias Henkel after we got there!" Morgan sounded more perturbed than actually worried, and that didn't bode well for Reid.

"That was supposed to be a private moment, cameras only! I didn't even have audio streaming! What the hell were you doing there, Morgan?"

"Nature called, man."

"It was a cemetery! You took a piss right next to where my grave should have been?"

"That's not the point," Hotch cut in.

"Look, I don't know why we're all here or why you guys are all mad. If someone could clear up why everyone's angry and not feeling something else regarding the situation that you clearly know about thanks to Morgan's spastic bladder, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"We know you're not on drugs, Spence." So J.J. was going to be the one to drop the bomb….

'Oh shit.' Worry etched itself on Reid's face. He quickly switched off his mic. There was no point in lying from here: he was a terrible liar and had already allowed his face to betray him. "How long have you guys known?"

"Known what exactly? That you weren't actually using the drugs? The moment Morgan told me I knew you cou—"

"You're always such a tattle-tale, Derek!" Reid yelled at the older man, trying to, as usual, divert the blame from himself and keep Gideon from using logic against him. "You'd run to Gideon and Hotch if you thought I was tying my shoes the wrong way." He settled into his seat, knowing he looked like an angry kid. He wasn't too worried about that, though, because that's how he was treated regardless…and the ladies really seemed to eat it up.

"Maybe if you used your head, I wouldn't have to."

"You two, shut it. This is serious. Reid, it's getting really annoying." Hotch fixed him with his best angry Superman look. (**A/N**: I cannot be the only one that isn't at least slightly reminded of Superman by Hotch; no specific version, but the hero/chiseled quality. Eh. Don't ask.)

"Ah." Reid finally understood why they were FINALLY confronting him about the issue. He had gotten on their nerves. He was probably stealing Morgan and Hotch's fans or something.

Morgan imitated Reid's acknowledgement in a wimpy girl voice that sounded more like someone dying from the Plague. "I'm so sick of you pretending to have issues, man! Like those nightmares! What was up with that? You don't try to see how long you can go without sleep and excuse it by faking nightmares so you won't get in trouble when your work's slacking."

"Then," cut in Prentiss, who'd tried to remain silent the whole time, "there's that time after they first started filming the show, before I got here, when you purposefully failed you gun qualifications to gain audience sympathy and look supercool when you took the unsub out."

"Shut up, Emily, you weren't even here."

"That's another thing that's gonna change," Gideon declared. "We all know you're mad that Prentiss 'stole your dressing room,' but this attitude you—"

"And by the way, boy-genius, I didn't _steal_ your dressing room. They gave it to me because you were 'the star' and they found asbestos growing all over it or something stupid like that. They decided to give **me** cancer instead of you, jack-ass."

Reid quirked his lips in a show of apology.

"Anyway," Gideon continued, "you will treat Emily with respect. This silly bickering problem you have gets in the way of work, and she didn't even do anything. Got it?"

"Yes sir." His respect, though, was followed by an incredibly loud and inappropriate groan.

"We may be on TV, but we have important jobs. You will not jeopardize people's lives to soothe your own ego, which brings us to our main problem." Gideon's patience had been worn thin lately….

First, Morgan (who really did need to give the kid some space) runs to him and Hotch about Reid's nightmares. Then, the whole Henkel incident (it wasn't _that_ bad!), and Morgan told him what he saw Reid take. After that, it seemed that in every slated episode the producers of that damned reality show the Bureau had decided to let film their jobs to help finances, Reid was causing some sort of trouble or scene. There was the his spaced-out stupidity when they were investigating those cases in New York where the young female singers were being targeted, his refusal to act right in Houston, his little disappearing act in New Orleans, his "cry for help" in San Fransisco (he looked **right at** the damned camera!), and so on. He had tired to be understanding, thinking that maybe Henkel really messed with the kid's head a bit, but he was putting other lives at risk with his ridiculous…charade…to get more fan mail this year than Morgan (who got quite a bit from people wishing he and Garcia would "just go out already!").

His poor mother was probably crying her eyes out. By that, Gideon was thinking of the real Mrs. Reid, mind you. That crazy woman from Las Vegas wasn't Spencer's mother, she was paid by Reid to pretend to be, but Gideon didn't care to expose the little brat as the crook he really was; Spencer's real mother could come forward if she liked…and get a nice settlement from the network to keep quiet. The American dream….

In fact, that was another thing that bugged Gideon about Reid. The kid's whole background on the show was a lie he'd made up to seem more interesting (and get laid). He really did graduate at twelve and have all those degrees, but he lived in Louisiana his whole life, not Las Vegas. He learned how to gamble when his uncle would sneak him onto the river boats, not to mention the genius thing. His parents were still married and quite sane. Ah…there was too much to stew over now.

"So…how'd you guys know I wasn't actually taking the drugs?"

"Spence, I had to hold your hand for you to get your tetanus shot when you got that cut from the rusty filing cabinet downstairs."

"Really, kid, did you think we'd honestly believe you'd miraculously overcome your fear of needles to suddenly become a drug addict after you had to sit with a psycho for a couple of days? You _wish_ you had been actually tortured."

"Besides," Prentiss cut in, "no one ever actually saw you use any drugs."

"I was trying to get help for a deeper underlying psychological issue…?" Reid bit his lower lip and raised his right eyebrow.

"Not hardly! We know you do all that crap for the fangirls!" J.J. shook her head. "It really has to stop now, though. You can barely walk down the street in peace as it is, and this reflects poorly on the Bureau and the team, specifically. You'll probably get fired or something if people keep thinking you're on drugs and you keep bugging Hotch with your fake problems." She really had a way of pretending no one else was in the room, what with how nice and calm she always was.

Then Reid got an idea. "You think I'd get a spin-off if I got fired?"

Things were thrown, and Spencer Reid's drug problem magically disappeared the next episode.


	3. The Confessional

**CONFESSIONAL BOOTH** (post-"Plain Sight")

**Reid.**

Okay. I'm not saying I'm _happy_ those women were raped and murdered and whatnot, but I **hate** that stupid hat they make me wear on my birthday. I don't know why everyone feels the need to validate me. _I'm _not trying to, so what gives with them? People see a genius who was largely on his own for most of his life and figure he missed out on something.

That's not true, though!

Again, I'm definitely not happy that such terrible crimes took place, but if something hadn't happened to stop their idiotic behavior, I might have started a fire.

**J.J.**

I love Reid's birthday. It's like exacting revenge for how annoying he is all year. I couldn't care less if he had a terrible childhood or feels stunted or something. I know he hates when we make a big deal out of his birthday. I think it actually embarrasses him in front of the other agents and stuff, since it's something that only happens to him and he's all young and needs to prove that he's a real person or whatever. He's so lame. Anyway, we make him put on that dumb hat, and I feel good because I know he's miserable. listens to question from cameraman No. No, we don't invite him to anyone else's birthday. The one time we did…he made a scene. cuts to clip

A/N: I left the clip out on purpose, by the way.


	4. Reid's Boogeyman Lie

"Am I afraid of the dark? No." Reid looked around to make sure all the cameras were off. He wanted to set the record straight with the rest of the team and the crew from Dark Journey. However, it wouldn't do to allow all the girls who thought this idiosyncrasy was sensitive and adorable (not to mention how "brave" he was for admitting it on national TV) to know he had made the whole thing up. He had barely saved himself with that "inherent absence of light" excuse.

"Oh please! You made me turn on the light for you in the men's room before you would even go in it," scoffed Prentiss.

"Sorry if I thought you might want out of your asbestos dressing room for a while. Gee, see if I try to ever rescue _you_ from cancer again."

"I was trying to get in my car to leave, and you started crying and begging. The only reason I agreed to do it was because the cameraman was looking at me like I was some sort of bitch and you'd worked your way into the passenger seat; I was afraid you'd contaminate it with your Spencer Reid urine."

"Wow, Spence, how manly."

"It's not my fault! Derek and Hotch are always turning the lights off in the bathroom and hiding so they can scare me!"

"Whatever!" Hotch inwardly laughed. It was hilarious when he did that; Reid actually peed on himself a few times, but it was definitely not conduct becoming of a BAU team leader ('And exclaiming "Whatever!" like some teenaged girl is?' he thought to himself). "Morgan, if _you_ are actually doing this, I demand that you stop." ('Did that sound superlame? Nah, I'm Hotch; I say what I want, how I want!')

"Now it's my fault that the kid's scared of the boogeyman? What? Just because I'm black?"

"Because you're a jerk," Reid cut in. "And you're hardly black! You guys are always getting mad at me about that woman I hired to be my mom, but no one ever says anything about the white man from New Hampshire masquerading as some kid from the hood."

Gideon could see what Spencer was trying to do, and he wasn't getting away with it. "Spencer, a normal man who spends way too much time in a tanning bed isn't going to be received as well as a mixed kid from the hood when thrown into the team demographic. We needed our token black guy, and Morgan was willing to learn the part. You're story is cruel and unnecessary (**A/N**: I actually really like the plotline with Reid's mother, but I need reasons for everyone to hate him!)."

"Besides," said Garcia, who had finally decided to make her debut in my fic, "no one's going to believe a whitey can dance like such a fine, fine-lookin' man."

"That's right, baby girl."

"The point is, are you, or are you not, afraid of the dark, Reid?" Gideon was finally getting the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

"I'm not. I mean…I'm a man, a doctor three times over. I have no reason to be afraid of the dark. I don't even have any light in my apartment."

"That's because you can't afford them. You spend all your money on hair products, sugar, and coffee," Morgan groaned.

"Just shut up, Morgan. It's no one's business how I spend my pay."

"Just be reminded, Reid, that hookers and diamond-encrusted goblets are hardly impressive when you can't afford electric bills."

"Garcia, have you been tracing my finances again?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, as if it was obvious. "I've been tracing your cell phone, too. You spend way too much time in the red light district, if you ask me, to be covering it up as police work. The Bureau tends to frown heavily upon agents with such vices, especially when you're running all over the country to do it."

"That's why all those hookers were all over you that time! They know you give good business!"

"Thank you, J.J. McObvious. However, if I want someone to go to dinner with and make me look like the pimp I really am, that's none of your business."

"You think you're a pimp?!"

"Yes, Hotch, yes I do. Morgan does almost the same thing, but no one says anything to him."

"Quit trying to get me in trouble for your stupidity. Besides, it's way different: those girls want to be with me for me, not money."

"Whatever. You're all just mad because I have the most fangirls."

"Too bad none of 'em are legal yet," Prentiss pointed out. "The show's fansite shows that most of your fans are between the ages of fourteen and eighteen."

"Reid, I don't know why you're so ashamed of being afraid of the dark."

"Gideon, I'm not afraid of the dark!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not! I thought we were past that."

"It's the whole reason we're here."

"What do I have to do to prove to you guys I'm not afraid of the dark?"

___________

Reid spent an entire week in a cave, without any sort of light, with his team members bringing a steady, and incredibly long, stream of coffee, sugar, and books. His fangirls went crazy over his sudden disappearance from the show and set up a national search party because the show was saying that his whereabouts were "classified." Obviously, he was in mortal peril. _Poor Reid! He's all alone out there and his team members don't even care! He's afraid of the dark, people; he's too cute and fragile to make it out there!_

It all worked out in the end, though, and Reid has stopped picking up hookers as dates. He now saves money to pay for electricity.

His fangirls' whereabouts, however, are currently unknown. They were last seen trying to find a guide to take them through the vast expanse of ice that covers the most-north part of Canada. If you see them, please try to disorient them and keep them from contact with Spencer Reid because they would probably rape the poor kid if they ever found him.


	5. Tag to S5 Premiere

**A/N:** I told my friend Reid got shot in the season premiere, she FREAKED THE FUCK OUT.

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"Can I get a little help here?" Reid called out pathetically from his position in the backseat of the SUV. Everyone near him scoffed and walked on. Reid managed to hobble his way into the building and into the morning's briefing. The team had just picked him up from the hospital (because the Director said they had to, to foster team unity and all that jazz), but they had made no attempt to conceal their displeasure with him.

"You're late," Rossi said in a bored expression.

"You guys just left me in the car; I got shot in the leg!"

"Quit whining," Morgan said, mad already because his cereal box had cheated him out of a prize that morning, and before he could call to complain to General Mills, it was time to pick up that fool kid.

"Spence, you threw yourself in front of that bullet on purpose. You knew it wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you still made the dive. Your desperate bid for attention from fangirls is really becoming an issue. We can't give sympathy to an injury this stupid. Otherwise, people might think what you're doing is okay."

"I heard the Director talking the other day, and she said the only reason you still have a job is because you're cute and good for ratings. If the F.B.I. didn't need the money from the show, she would have thrown you out after your season one screw-ups."

"Go get cancer, Prentiss."

"Not my words, just the Director's."

"And how dare you guys accuse me of getting shot on purpose. No one even checked on me or asked anyone else how I was all day. I just spent a night in the hospital with only a nine-year-old named Tommy to keep me company."

"They put you in the kids' ward?" Rossi asked.

"Er…I kinda snuck into it. I heard they got green jell-o instead of red."

"What in the world, Reid! That's just stupid!"

"Oh, and that scene Larry told me about where Hotch told his **fake** wife and son good-bye and acted like he wanted to cry wasn't?"

"Hotch was attacked by a madman, and it wouldn't hold with the viewers to suddenly act like Hailey and Jack don't matter." Rossi was rather matter-of-fact this morning. "It's no one's fault that Foyet didn't understand that it was an act. Hell, their 'existence' is probably what kept Hotch alive."

"Yeah, well, _his_ fake family ruined that woman and her little boy's lives. _Mine_ never did that."

"Ratings were better with him playing the part of a family man at heart. Would you care about Hotch, as a stranger, if you knew he was a bachelor?" J.J. was getting tired of Reid. That was the understatement of the millennium.

Prentiss finally broke from her mind. "Wait a minute. They were never really married? Are we _all_ using fake background lives?"

"Are you?" asked Rossi.

"No, we're not," said J.J. "That cameraman, Larry, he told me that only Morgan and Hotch's characters were altered by the producers."

Everyone shot Reid glares.

"The bottom line is: I could have gotten an infection or actually been hurt, and all you people were worried about was Hotch's TV family." He kicked his crutches over with his good leg. That'd show 'em!

"When the cameras were rolling, you said that you were fine."

"Well, Morgan, that's what we in the business call 'acting.'"

"What? What business? The idiot business?"

"The producers seem to think I have the right stuff to become an actor." Reid straightened out his collar and smiled.

"I sure hope so, because you're on the fast track to unemployment."

"You just want out of your dressing room. Anyway, I don't see what you're all so upset about. No one accused Morgan of getting shot on purpose back when we chased Foyet the first time."

"If you try to parallel us to try and validate your own stupidity ever again, I will kick you like a door."

Reid gulped and busied himself with how straight the case files on the table were.

By the way, the producers gave the fake former-Ms. Hotch a huge settlement for her trouble regarding the latest installment of the show.

A/N: Yep, I wrote this one way long ago. Umm. I do realize I may vary whether or not Hailey is his real wife or not. Well…sometimes we'll pretend she is, and sometimes we'll pretend she isn't.


	6. The Confessional, Pt 2

A/N: Just to be clear, I wrote a huge flashback scene that Morgan tells the cameraman for this chapter. I didn't do it from his point of view, though, I just wrote it like a regular scene. It's pretty obvious which portion it is, I just don't want people to be confused about the transition and things not being in quotes or italics or something. Lots of Reid!Idiocy in this one, as usual. Enjoy.

* * *

CONFESSIONAL BOOTH

**Reid**

"Okay, yeah, there _was_ an incident at Hotch's birthday a few years back. It wasn't that big a deal, though. They just joke that that's the reason we don't celebrate anyone else's birthday anymore….. Wait. What do you mean they just don't invite _me_?

**Morgan**

"An _incident_? That's what he told you? Reid turned Hotch's birthday party into a disaster! I remember; we all do. Hailey had organized a dinner for Hotch at a really nice restaurant. Reid…well, he was late. That was the least of our problems, though.

**Hotch**

Yeah, I would say that Reid's behavior at my birthday party that year put a definite strain on my relationship with Hailey. She was, as usual, frustrated with my work at the BAU. That night when we were at home, I defended Reid—probably the dumbest thing I ever did, considering what he's done over the years—but I did it because I truly felt the kid needed help and that he didn't mean to screw up. His cat had just died, and he was suffering from some issues with himself. He hadn't been with the BAU long at all, and the work was taking its toll. Besides, he was so young! Hailey didn't buy it. She demanded I fire him. I thought it was an isolated incident. Now, I could kill myself for being so naïve…. No, I really don't feel like discussing what occurred that night.

**Morgan**

Yeah, I'll tell you what happened.

Hotch smiled fondly over the table. His wife sat to his right, holding his hand. A small table of gifts sat behind him. Everyone was here. His mother, Hailey's parents, his brother, his few friends outside of work, and the whole team were sitting around the table. Even Gideon was present, and everyone knew he didn't do birthdays. His wife had really worked to make this a special evening for him.

Wait, no. Not everyone was there. Where was Reid?

The team hadn't been together in its entirety for very long, and there was still an open position in case anyone came along (say…some chick in Washington state who was in WAY over her head), but Reid had been with them for quite some time now. Had Hailey forgotten him? Well, the kid _was_ a bit scatter-brained; he could have lost track of time or gone off on some sort of tangent researching something.

There **was** an empty chair at the table next to Morgan.

"Does anyone know where Reid is?"

It happened as if on cue.

The front door to the restaurant banged open. There was a mad rush of voices, obviously trying to assuage the situation. Things started banging around, and glass could be heard crashing against the floor.

"Look, I promise I'm supposed to be here….No! Look, lady, just shut your mouth! Is he back here?"

They didn't need to wait the ten seconds it took to see his face: that voice clearly belonged to Spencer Reid.

"Guys! Party!" Reid stumbled into the nook of the restaurant where his boss's party was taking place. His hair (which had been quite short at the time) was sticking up at odd angles. His shirt was frumpled and untucked, sticking out of his sweatervest that was ripped up the side. His khaki pants were torn and had stains around the bottoms of the legs. His left pant's leg was slightly pushed up to reveal a bright red sock. There was a sloppy grin on his face, and his right hand was adorned with a near-empty fifth of Jack Daniels.

Given his appearance, which made him look much more like a fifteen-year-old boy who had just come in from playing than a federal agent, it was a **HUGE** surprise no one on the street had taken the bottle from him and tried to call his parents or something to that effect.

Morgan's narration _If you guys thought he looked like a kid back when this show started, you should have seen him a couple years before._ end narration

"Hotch! Birthday boy!" He went around the table and gave the man a hug, sipping from the whiskey.

"Spence, what are you doing?"

"Well, J.J. the Jet plane"—at his own joke, Reid broke into a brief fit of hysterics—"this guy here"—he walked over and swung an arm around Morgan—"has been telling me that I need to 'lighten up.' So…." At this point, Reid fell over. The bottle crashed against his face, but the blood didn't seem to bother him. "Wow, it's comfortable down here. Hey, Garcia, I can see up your skirt!"

Garcia was mortified, Gideon was angry, Hotch was flabbergasted, and Hailey was irreconcilable. No one else knew what it was they were supposed to feel at this display of…whatever you would call it.

"Honey, it's okay I don't mind, really. He's just a kid. You did your best, and I love my party. It's more than I could have ever hoped for." Hotch held his wife and planted small kisses on her forehead.

It didn't matter what her husband said; that punk kid had ruined her party. This was the first time in **months** she'd been able to get family time with her husband, and this birthday was supposed to be special. Someone was going to pay.

Hailey stood up, walked over to Reid, and kicked him in the gut as hard as she could. Morgan could have sworn he saw the pointed toe of her heels show through Reid's back. Reid just laughed and laughed.

Hotch quirked an eyebrow at the one person he knew Reid would always listen to.

Gideon, being his calm and collected self, sprung into action. "Reid, let's go get you cleaned up. Then, maybe we'll come back." Gideon was secretly pissed off; he'd already ordered his lobster and by the time he got Reid sobered up, it wasn't going to be fresh anymore. _This _is what he got for celebrating birthdays.

"What?" asked Reid as Gideon lifted him off the floor.

"We're gonna go fix you up for the party, kid."

"Whattaya mean? I'm already ready for the party," he slurred. "I know this is what happens at parties."

"This isn't that kind of party, Spencer. Let's go back to your place."

"But Hotch…."

"We'll be back. Say good-bye. Can we get someone to clean this up?" he called into the main area of the restaurant, gesturing to the spilled liquor, broken glass, and blood on the floor. At least the kid hadn't thrown up.

Reid took the moment to bid everyone else adieu. "I just wanna say, to all my niggas up in here, that I'll be back in like…five minutes. Peace to all my hoes!" (**A/N**: because Reid really would never be able to force a gangster voice)

Gideon saw that enough was enough and dragged Reid away. They returned an hour later, when the meal was winding down. Reid had showered, redressed, and stopped his face's bleeding, and Gideon had forced tons of coffee and bread into him while yelling/lecturing about how stupid this had all been. Thankfully, Reid was sober enough to apologize and sit quietly while Hotch opened his presents.

* * *

**Morgan.**

"The only thing the kid did right that night was give Hotch this really cool-looking clock."

**Hotch.**

"Am I implying by my last statement that Reid has a problem with getting drunk and acting retarded? Yes, yes I am."

**Reid.**

"Hotch is a liar, and of course Morgan's gonna be the one to tell you dumb things about me. In case he failed to mention it, it was sort of his fault: he was the one always telling me to lighten up back then. Guess that shut him up…'til now. You know, this figures. Whatever. Why don't you all just go sit in Prentiss's dressing room?"

A/N: yeah, I know, I use the asbestos dressing room reference a lot. It's the closest thing this has to a plot, though. Clearly a PWP? story. Thanks for reading. Drop a review to let me know how you liked this one.


	7. The End

**A/N**: I don't think this chapter is actually all that funny (sorry if you didn't think the rest of the story was). However, I felt it a necessary thing to be written. Perhaps it shall be deemed enjoyable by someone.

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Morgan, Garcia, J.J., Prentiss, and Rossi sat around the round table. They had been waiting there nearly thirty minutes. No one was quite sure what they were waiting for, but small talk with the camera crew was the only way to pass the time.

Suddenly, the door banged open.

"Where's Reid?" the man all but yelled.

"Gideon?" Morgan stood up and moved closer, confused.

"Hotch found me this morning. He told me he spent all night with Garcia trying to find me. He said I had to come here, and that it was important. He said it had to do with Reid. He hung up before I could ask anything more."

"We don't know anything, either. We were all sent messages to be here at one o'clock this afternoon, but we don't know what's going on with either of them." J.J. fell into her mode as communicator, hoping to bring some sort of normalcy to this event.

"All I know is that he was very angry last night. He called me in to track you down, it took a few hours, and then I went home. I really don't know what's going on. He didn't leave much room for questions." Garcia was worried she'd let something bad happen right before her eyes.

Another ten minutes passed with everyone catching up on who was who and doing what, but the elephant in the room (by which I mean the fact that two agents were missing from the meeting and not the incredibly obese cameraman, Larry) never left. Finally, though, they got what they were waiting for.

"Ow! Would you let go? We're here, and I already told you I wasn't going to run. Ow! Hotch, you're hurting me!"

There wasn't an un-rolled eye in the room.

The door flew open to reveal a very angry Aaron Hotchner holding a very perturbed Spencer Reid by the top of his arm. If everyone hadn't been so worried before, it would have been almost comical; Reid looked every bit a young boy instead of a grown man, and Hotch was fuming. It was about time someone was really mean to Reid. By this point, the only reason no one had killed him was because the cameras **never** left him alone. It was sickening.

"Gideon?"

"Well, Reid, looks like you've gotten yourself into a bit of…. What _is_ this?"

"All right, I want cameras off! As of now, this show has been cancelled. Clear out, and the next red light I see flash on one of those damned things will be the last time that camera does anything. Move!" Hotch put his hand on his gun, just to make his point clear.

Finally, the last of the crew had left. He ordered that all microphones be turned off and put on the table. The team complied, worried about what was actually happening that would cause Hotch to be so drastic.

"Alright then." Hotch visibly relaxed, though not by much, and turned his attention to Reid. "Care to tell everyone what you did?"

"You didn't say Gideon would be here. Is that where you went last night?"

"You two were together last night?"

"Well, Prentiss, while you were soaking up cancer over a box of chocolate-coated strawberries last night—which, by the way, went straight to your ass—our esteemed unit leader **kidnapped** me and left me locked in his apartment. If that's what you meant, then yes."

"You kidnapped him?"

"Gideon, it was the only way. I got him in my office, finally without those stupid cameras, and took him to my place for safe keeping."

"Safe keeping?! You threatened to shoot me unless I did what you wanted, and then you locked me up after you slapped the hell out of me!"

"You slapped him? Like a girl?"

"Morgan, that isn't important. Our little genius has a confession to make, and it'll ensure that we don't ever have to deal with him again."

"You can't make me talk," Spencer said defiantly. He crossed his arms and sat down, kicking his feet onto the table.

"You will talk, and you will tell the truth."

"And lose this sweet deal of a job I've got going? I think not."

J.J. pushed Reid's feet on the table and jerked him up by the hair. "We've been sitting here worried about you guys—well, mostly Hotch…but that's not the point—and you're going to tell us why."

"Okay! Just let go of the love locks!"

Disgusted faces from everyone found their way to Reid's direction.

"It's my hair, and I'll call it what I want."

"Just get on with it," Morgan said. "I wasted my lunch in here, and so this had better be good."

"I…did something."

"We kind of figured that one out, thanks." Rossi crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. This was retarded. "Do you mind filling us in on what exactly it is that you did?"

"Well, yeah. I don't think you should be here, or Gideon. This happened before you came, and Gideon doesn't work here anymore. I think it's only fair that I confess only to people who were, and are still, involved from the get-go of this whole issue."

Gideon glared at Reid. "Do you know where I've been living? Texas. Do you know how expensive an immediate ticket from there to here is these days? I'm not leaving 'til I have something to show for my troubles."

Suddenly, a thought struck Reid. It was probably his best idea ever. He had considered it flippantly before, when he didn't think he'd ever actually be in this position. Now, it seemed to be a valid alternative to causing some huge scene for the TV cameras.

In the excitement of this thought, he realized a few things: His job with the BAU was over; any hopes of saving it were in vein. No one here liked him anymore, anyway, except for Gideon because they had been so close in the beginning before the show started. Finally, though, he was a smart, good-looking man.

All of these things fueled his idea further, and he saw no reason to continue acting the way he had for the past few years since the show's fourth episode aired and he'd been introduced to fan mail.

He partly (and purposely) regressed into the regular, awkward, loveable Dr. Spencer Reid.

"Well?" Hotch's voice broke his train of thought.

"I'm sorry. I…I don't know. Do I really have to admit this to Gideon?" he pleaded to Hotch. No matter what had ever happened, he'd always valued Gideon's respect and couldn't stand to think that he would have to admit to letting him down.

"Yes." It was Gideon's voice that spoke. "I want answers. I left my entire life, even you guys, my family, and if I'm being called back to face all of it again, it won't be for naught."

"Now, Reid."

Reid gulped. He pushed his hair behind his ears. He raised his eyebrows. "I…lied to you guys."

"You lie all the time," Prentiss said.

"Yeah, but this…this was a big one. I mean…I lied to **a lot** of people. It was a lot of lies, too…."

Morgan shot him a pointed look. While he had been initially surprised by the day's events, he was now coming to understand what it was all about. He always was a sort of a tattle-tale after keeping all those secrets from his childhood....

"You will tell your story from start to finish, leaving nothing out."

"Yes, sir. Well...um…you guys remember Tobias Henkel?" He didn't wait for answers; he blurted the rest of his tail without interruption. "Well, you see, he wasn't really him…or his father…or an angel of death. Anyway, he didn't kill all those people. Someone else did. I never told anyone, but the real killer called the police station the day before we closed in on Henkel. I was the only one around, so I picked up. We cut a deal that he would stop killing if we stopped pursuing him. He said that he felt he had done enough of the Lord's work and it was time to stop, that his message had been put out there. It was season two of the show…and I was letting it all get to my head. I made up the whole torture thing…."

"You did _what?_" J.J. yelled. She immediately slapped Reid across the face, twice.

"Yeah, I know, it was a terrible thing to do, but I was upset because Morgan had, had a really good episode, and then my fake mom was threatening to quit and expose me. I needed something to help my image that would keep her interested in the work and me in the spotlight."

"That man we thought hurt you is dead!" Morgan had know something was off about the case, that's why he told Hotch yesterday when Reid was acting all creepy about it when they were going over closed case files to brush up their memories for a re-cap episode of Dark Journey that was coming up. The kid shouldn't have even been there… "_I have a 187 I.Q…. I have an eidetic memory…. I have fangirls…. I read a bajillion words per minute…."_ He didn't actually want to work, though. No. That was **far** beneath Spencer Reid. So he sat around with the rest of them and bugged them with questions about what sex was really like.

"He wanted to die. That's the whole reason why he agreed to do it."

"Reid, this is inexcusable. This means that you deceived all of America, and you let a serial killer go." Gideon was taking this better than expected. He wasn't yelling or anything. "Do you know what that kidnapping did to all of us?"

"We actually felt _sorry_ for you. We overlooked the fact that you were a little prick to remember what a good agent and person you really are. Pretending to have a drug problem was one thing, but faking the entire incident and exploiting another person's suicidal wishes? That's low, man."

"Even for you, Spence." J.J. was in total agreement with Morgan.

"J.J., can I ask _why_ you call me 'Spence?' I know it's a bit off-topic right now, but I've always wondered. No one else does, and it seems like you should have dropped using a nickname for me after everything I've done."

"I'm too lazy to say your whole name." Wasn't it obvious? "It wasn't a nickname; I never really liked you all that much. Ever. You weren't worth the extra syllable, and you don't look like the type of guy to be called by his last name by everyone all the time."

Reid nodded his understanding, screwing his face around her logic and shrugging.

"Wait. You called me a narcissist for no good reason!" This realization suddenly hit Hotch.

"Oh yeah," Reid said as he flailed his arms, falling back into the attention-loving reality TV star persona he'd grown to enjoy, "that wasn't a narcissistic comment at all."

"Shut up," Prentiss said.

"Shut up," Reid mocked in an overly-feminine voice.

"Shut up, Reid. Seriously, I don't want to hear you talk." Rossi was angry. He'd been lied to by this kid since the day he walked back into the BAU. He'd forced himself to endure countless hours of stupidity because the boy was supposedly traumatized.

"Dave, maybe you should go get some water. You're not going to like what else he has to say."

"No, Hotch, I think I'll stay."

Hotch sighed. He knew there was about to be a lot of violence. "Tell them who the supposed-Tobias Henkel really was."

"You guys really didn't notice?" Everyone shook their heads. "What the hell? It was James Van der Beek! You really didn't recognize him?"

Suddenly, Rossi lunged at Reid. He had the skinny little punk pinned beneath him, hands around his throat, when the other three men in the room intervened. They eventually got him off.

"It's his fault!" he screamed, on the verge of tears. "It's all his fault!" Poor Rossi. He had been so sure that there was going to be a Dawson's Creek reunion at some point this decade. He could just feel it in his bones! However, those dreams were shot down after the lead actor went missing. He'd spent years hoping (rather actively) that there would be a return of the man, but now the truth was out.

"Look. I met James a few years back, and he was very suicidal. He said he couldn't live down his role on Dawson's Creek and some crackhead fan was stalking him and trying to push a reunion or spin-off—the man had actually left his job to lead a fanclub in Louisiana! He told me he wanted to be on TV doing something for real, or die. I got that offer from the serial killer and found a way for him to do both of those things while solving my own problems. I set it up for the real Tobias Henkel to be put out of the way and to implicate James in everything else. I really don't see the big deal, aside from the whole lying to the Bureau thing."

No one had anything to say to him. They had all turned their attention inward or to random files on the table. Clearly, nothing more was to be said.

Well, he'd just have to play nice for a moment.

"I know I can't work here anymore. Even if this wasn't so serious an issue, I understand what a jerk I was to everyone when we were involved in the show and that I can't be trusted as a team member by you guys, which would be essential to my working here. I know I have to leave. Can I ask one question before I get my things and go, though?"

"One," Hotch declared.

"How did you know to look into the situation and make me confess to you what actually happened with Henkel?"

Hotch didn't see much stake in the answer. There was no reason to lie. "Morgan said you were acting weird when you went over the case file."

Oops; there had been a reason to lie.

Reid had definitely had enough of Morgan.

"What the hell! You stupid snitch! You just cost me my job, you know that?" Reid moved closer to Morgan, his frustration clear and coming out in exaggerated hand gestures. "You know, no one got mad when _you_ were lying to everyone. You were arrested, and everyone went out on the line for you, but you still lied and no one got mad."

Morgan could feel his temper boiling. His hands were shaking. How insensitive could one person be?

"I can't believe you went and told on me _**again**_! I made a reasonable judgment call to allow a man to stop killing—which he did!—and help out a friend and myself in the process. You were willing to let a child molester—who was still molesting—remain uncaught to keep a secret from all of us and keep us from being able to help you get out of jail. I did nothing different from what you almost did. In fact, what I did was probably less idiotic!"

Reid was prepared for anything. His plan was fool-proof, and only death could stop him from enacting his brilliant scheme that led to stardom.

Morgan remembered a promise he'd made to Reid not too long ago.

Suddenly, Reid made a strange noise and collapsed on the floor. Morgan looked down at him, triumphant. J.J. immediately called for an ambulance to transport Reid to the hospital; Morgan had definitely ruptured something inside the younger man when he kicked him.

Reid smiled. He had been exposed to Gideon as a terrible person, lost his job, and was pretty sure his spleen had just exploded, but that was all-the-better. He could cry in a minute. Right now was a moment for rejoicing and going back over the master plan.

With the lawsuit he could present against Dark Journey's production company (The cameramen were supposed to remain with them at all times; they left, and their absence—and the camera's—could have very well been the reason Morgan had decided it would be okay to go ahead and attack poor Reid when there would be no actual evidence against him because everyone else on the show obviously hated him. The cameramen's leaving, and therefore their company, had very likely cause Spencer Reid great harm), Spencer Reid would definitely be getting a spin-off.

So that's it. I'm already working on a spin-off for Reid.

Actually, this has been finished for quite some time. I got caught up in writing the spin-off (which is still nowhere near-done and developments in the show have ruined what I was going to write, so it will have to be alternate universe) and other stuff in life, and simply neglected to post this for….it's probably been literal months since this fic was completed. I apologize.

HOWEVER

Here are some little guessing games for you to enjoy as a token of my…feeling apologetic?

How long after seeing the season 5 premiere did it take for me to write the tag chapter in this fic for it?

PRIZE: A one-shot for Criminal Minds about almost whatever you want (no slash, other restrictions may apply, win guessing game for more details)

What was the original one-shot I wrote and almost published before I came up with the concept for this story(?) and tweaked it to fit?

PRIZE: Same as the last one.

Which chapter was the second one-shot I was trying to write when I came up with the concept to turn it into what this fic became (which one inspired the whole fic to happen)?

PRIZE: New chapter idea of your choosing that will randomly be flung into the middle of this fic just for you.

What is my favorite color?

PRIZE: One-shot.

Someone please play and give me motivation to write SOMETHING.


End file.
